It wasn't supposed to be this way
by Elindranyth
Summary: Written in true Slavatore style, so please read only if you understand how he writes, otherwise I'll just be getting flamed for being confusing
1. Chapter 1

1_This is not how it was supposed to end._

These words rang through Zaknafein Do'Urden's mind as he tried to block out the sound of metal against metal and his son's voice as Zaknafein tried to kill him. He had assumed that it had come to an end years before when his son, Drizzt had escaped Menzoberranzan and the cruel machinations of the drow city where they'd both lived. It was then that Zaknafein had given up his life as a sacrifice to Lloth so that his son might live and find a way to escape the pitiless world that they'd both lived in. At that time Zaknafein had given up his life peacefully, content that with his sacrifice he'd made it possible for Drizzt to survive and to become something more than just another pawn in Lloth's dark and twisted game.

If Zaknafein had known what the future had held, he would have died fighting in an attempt to take Malice to her grave with him despite her threats. Anything to prevent the horror that he was watching happen now.

Malice had decided to punish her son for his rebelliousness and so had demanded one of the highest and most draining gifts of Lloth. The ritual had restored Zaknafein's body and returned his skills, memories and spirit to his body. However, his body and his skills remained under Malice's control while his spirit could only watch with helpless frustration as the newly created spirit-wraith was sent out to find and kill Drizzt Do'Urden.

When the spirit-wraith had been created, Zakanafein had not entirely understood what was going on, only that his soul had been wrested from its resting place and that for some unknown reason he was now a spectator to his body's actions. It was only when Malice had given him his horrible mission and referred to him as what he now was that he truly understood what had happened to him. Since that time he had tried to fight against Malice's control many, many times in order to regain control of his body and to end this course, but each time his attempts had proven fruitless.

For months now, his soul had been brushed aside as inconsequential and made to watch as the hunt continued and his body killed time and time again to satisfy Malice's lust for violence. He had long since stopped trying to regain control in these moments. Indeed, he had tried, as best he could, to ignore what his body was doing and to pretend that he was not there. He had reasoned to himself that, as he knew none of the creatures he fought, and many of them were evil, that there was no reason to watch or question his body's actions. Now, the situation had changed. The one person that Zaknafein cared about more than his own life was at danger, and due to his own hands. Zaknafein found that as much as he wished to, he could watch impassively no longer. Despite the fact that he knew what was happening and that he was helpless to prevent it, he found himself battling violently against Malice's will in a desperate attempt to regain his body.

Sword clashed against Scimitar as the two dark forms fought, and Zaknafein felt his body move against his will to hack at his son. Behind him lay a Hook Horror and a gnome, Drizzt's companions no doubt. The Hook Horror was dead, and Zak had no doubt that after he killed his son, Malice would ensure that he killed the gnome as well.

Unable to do anything but watch, Zaknafein's spirit wept in despair and cursed Lloth's existence even as Drizzt cursed at him. He was a damned thing, a pawn in life and now in undeath as well. His hatred for himself and for what he was doing spurred him on and he fought Malice as violently as his son fought him, trying to find some chink in the Lloth-granted powers she'd been given.

The battle continued as Drizzt flung himself at Zaknafein in a rage, scimitars up high. Zaknafein countered the foolish attack with an ease that he loathed, and working the other drow's weapons up high, then driving into a double-thrust low, a move that they had often practiced together as Zak proudly trained his son to follow in his footsteps. Drizzt concentrated on the move, his lavender eyes burning with an inner fire as he parried in a cross-down position that pinned both of Zaknafein's swords. He followed up the move by putting his booted foot between the scimitar hilts and kicking at Zaknafein's face. The spirit-wraith moved its head out of the way long before the blade reached it, a counter that only Zaknafein could possibly have known.

Drizzt's eyes went wide with astonishment. "You are Zaknafein!" he cried, "What has Malice done to you?"

For the briefest of moments Zaknafein overpowered Malice's will, and he struggled to explain what was happening, that Drizzt must kill him else he would never be free of Malice's grasp. The moment proved too brief, and he found himself thrown back from control before he could form the words he needed to say.

Zaknafein watched as Drizzt's eyes suddenly filled with hope and the realization that he was still somewhere within the spirit-wraith's body. The drow shouted to his ally what was going on, then launched into a training routine that he'd practiced with Zaknafein many times before. Zaknafein's heart ached at his son's courage and flawless performance, even as he wanted to yell at him for his foolishness. As a gap opened, the spirit-wraith hacked pitilessly at Drizzt's side.

The only deity he had known in his life had been the false goddess Lloth, who had twisted and perverted the people of his city, turning them into malicious creatures whose only desire was for more power. Despite that, Zaknafein sent out a silent plea to any god that might be listening for some form of mercy.

Dimly, he heard Drizzt pleading for him to understand what was going on, but Malice was firmly in control and he could give the young drow no words of comfort.

The battle continued, and now Drizzt looked worried. He would tire eventually, Zaknafein knew, and that was when Drizzt would get careless and the killing blow would fall. As a spirit-wraith, Zaknafein's body felt no fatigue, and the slashes across his neck and belly that Drizzt had scored neither neither pained him nor hindered him in any way. Aside from destroying his body, there was no way that Drizzt could end this fight. He would die.

Even as Zaknafein thought this, Drizzt slipped on a loose stone and went down to one knee. The spirit-wraith drove his swords forward pitilessly, and soon had the drow on his back, only inches away from the lake of acid that filled the area below this particular cave. He heard the gnome scream out Drizzt's name, even as his swords readied themselves for the final blow.

Suddenly, he felt a surge of power not entirely his own come over him, strong enough for him to pull back and to hold in the killing blow. Drizzt seized the opportunity and punched out with a scimitar hilt, driving the spirit-wraith backward and he regained his footing.

"Zaknafein!" Drizzt called.

"Driz-" Zaknafein struggled to reply, but Malice gained control again and the spirit-wraith attacked, swords leading the way.

_No! _Zaknafein's spirit screamed in desperation, though no one heard the words. _Please … I'll do anything, just let this end. _

In front of him, Drizzt slipped his scimitars back into his sheaths.

Zaknafein struggled to take control again as the spirit-wraith cut into the air with his swords in anticipation of the coming battle.

He felt the same rush of power come to him again, giving him precious time to think. _You know what needs to be done_, a female voice assured him. He knew not the voice, but he recognized the gift for what it was. A goddess had heard his prayers and granted him a respite, driving back Malice so that he could end this battle properly.

His body once more his own, Zaknafein brought the swords down to rest at his side.

"Drizzt." He re-sheathed his swords against Malice's will and Drizzt's eyes brightened with relief and joy as he started towards him. As much as he wanted to embrace Drizzt and express everything that he was feeling at the moment, Zaknafein put up a hand to stop him.

"No." He said quickly. "I do not know how long I can resist. The body is hers, I fear –"

"Then you are-?" Drizzt began, and then stopped in confusion.

"I am dead." Zaknafein said bluntly. "At peace, be assured. Malice has repaired my body for her own vile purposes." The part about being at peace was a lie, of course, but it was something that Drizzt needed to hear, and something that he knew would be coming soon.

"But you defeated her," Drizzt protested. "We are together again."

"A temporary stay, no more." Zaknafein said. As he spoke, Malice wrested some of his power from him and one of his hands shot to the hilt of his sword. He snarled and fought against her will, and gradually managed to bring his hand away from the weapon again.

"She is coming back, my son. That one is always coming back!" Much as he wished it otherwise, he knew this control he'd been gifted was temporary, and that he could not possibly win his body back. This body was one that Lloth had constructed, and the spider queen would have it back. Even now, he felt the surge of power that sustained him waver in the face of Malice's assault. If he had dared to deny this at first, the degree to which he was struggling even now, left him no doubt.

"I cannot bear to lose you again," Drizzt said. "When I saw you in the illithid cavern-"

"It was not me that you saw," Zaknafein explained, as he attempted to explain to Drizzt what he now was. "It was the zombie of Malice's evil will. I am gone, my son. I have been gone for many years."

"You are here." Drizzt argued, a stubborn light showing in his eyes. Zaknafein knew that expression well. It was the expression Drizzt wore most often when he knew he was right and knew he was going to win. Zaknafein wished dearly that he could grant his son this victory.

"By Malice's will, not … my own." At the mention of her name, Malice fought once more to gain control and Zaknafein growled as he fought her off. It took longer this time to fight her off, and he knew that his time was almost gone.

He took a long look at his son, noting the physical changes and remembering the changes in his fighting style. Drizzt had come a long way from who he was when they had last met, and he was easily now Zaknafein's equal or better.

"You fight well," He said at last. "Better than I had ever imagined. That is good, and it is good that you had the courage to run –" Malice fought for control again, and Zaknafein stopped he fought to regain control again. This time, he felt the separation between his body and his spirit, and watched as his hands went to the swords once more. This time, both came flashing out, ready and in a guard position.

"No!" Drizzt pleaded as tears began to form in his lavender eyes. "Fight her."

"I … cannot." Zaknafein replied as he felt the last of his control fading away. "Flee from this place, Drizzt. Flee to the very … ends of the world! Malice will never forgive. She … will never stop-"

Zaknafein lost control again and the spirit-wraith leapt forward. This time Drizzt had no choice but to draw his weapons. Refusing to allow the combat to continue, knowing that he wouldn't win another time, Zaknafein jerked to the side before he reached Drizzt.

"For us!" Zak cried in victory as he fell towards the lake of acid. Malice's hold on him was destroyed as he hit the acid and his body dissolved. Rationally, Zaknafein knew that he should be panicked. As his body was destroyed though, he felt an incredible sense of release and relief. Regardless of what happened next, he was completely free from Malice's grasp.  
As oblivion loomed ahead, Zaknafein embraced it and all that came with it. For the first time in his existence, he was completely free. It was a beautiful feeling.


	2. Chapter 2

1His Father's Eyes  
_  
Over my time both in the Underdark and on the surface world, I have made a variety of friends. Though few in number compared to that which other mortals might count, I consider each one of them to be extremely precious. Each one has judged me based on who I am and my actions rather than what I am._

Cattie Brie, Wulfgar, Bruenor, Regis, Montolio, all of these are names of those who have helped me out and guided me during my life. To this list there is another name equally as precious, though remembering it is bittersweet: Zaknafein.

Zaknafein was my teacher and my mentor, the one who I spent so many happy days with when I was a child and did not yet understand the ways of my people. The two of us were kindred spirits. In a world where friendships were broken easily for personal gain, ours was the rare exception.

Zaknafein gave his life for me not just once, but twice. Often I have thought back to those times. The first time he gave up his life as a sacrifice to Lloth, the Spider Queen, in my place, the second time as Malice's undead creation sent to destroy me. Despite the seeming impossibility, he gained control over his body for long enough to ensure his own destruction rather than mine. Both times he acted completely selflessly, for my sake.

What drove him to do such a thing for me? If our roles were switched I hope that I would have done the same for him that he might have had a chance at a better life. All the same I have to wonder, what exactly were his thoughts? What did he expect me to do and where did he expect me to go after he was gone? I know he would have been proud of who I am now and how far I have come from the child he once taught. Still, I would give much to hear such words from his own mouth, to have his reassurances directly from him rather than from my imagination.

I cannot remember the color of my father's eyes. Perhaps I never knew, or never paid enough attention to make a mental note of it. The only color I know and can remember is the faint red which his eyes showed when he used infravision. What color his eyes might have appeared as on the surface world is now forever lost to me. The color of his eyes … it seems like such a small thing until I think about how many other seemingly trivial things I never knew or have forgotten about Zaknafein which made him the drow that he was. It occurs to me then that perhaps I did not understand him so very well at all.

There are hundreds of questions that I now long to ask him, this drow who was my father and shaped the course of my destiny. Alas, these are questions that I will never be able to ask him. As much as I may lament it, Zaknafein shall ever remain a mystery to me. Perhaps one day, after I have passed from this world I will meet him again and I will be able to look into his eyes and know.

Until such a time I can only hope that, wherever he is, Zaknafein is resting in peace.

- Drizzt Do'Urden


	3. Chapter 3

1Return

Mielikki sat silently within her Grove. Around her, the forest hummed and rustled with life. Less than a dozen paces away stood a unicorn, watching the goddess intently. Mielikki was oblivious, so focused was she on the object within her hands. She held a small, cut gemstone up to the light, turning it so that the facts flashed as she pondered it. While the sapphire she held had no flaws it was quite small and appeared to be worth little value. Of course, Mielikki knew that the true value of the stone lay within it.

"Such a small stone to carry such a heavy weight," she mused aloud, spreading her hand wide to let the gem settle into her palm. The stone winked at her as she considered it, and the soul inside of it.

Such a small stone to have such a high cost as well, Mielikki reflected. Not that the drow who resided within it had any idea of the price that had been paid by the goddess that had saved him from becoming a part of Kelemvor's wall. Eilistraee's loss had served as a strong reminder to all that even now, even the gods themselves were not necessarily safe.

Eilistraee's loss had been the catalyst which had allowed Mielikki to claim the gem for her own. Corellon Larethian, who had taken charge of Eilistraee's followers, had been less than interested in taking on the wayward drow who had not been a follower of his daughter … nor of any god. It was because of this that Mielikki had been able to claim the stone, and the soul within for her own. It had been easy. Much easier than she had expected. Too easy?

To Mielikki, the ease with which Corellon had given up the stone was a bit unsettling. Perhaps he knew something that she did not? Perhaps. she thought darkly. Perhaps Corellon Larethian knew how much she would need to rely on help in the coming days. Her thoughts drifted back to her short meeting with the elven God. Had his smile been a touch too knowing? Was the look he'd given her one of curiosity, or of concern?

Mielikki pulled her thoughts away from their grim path and back to the gem she held, and to what it was that she needed to do. She focused her attention on the stone in her hand and set to work.

"Let us hope that the father is like the son." She whispered to herself as she made a gesture that would take her inside of the stone, to see the spirit trapped there.

If not, then perhaps it was already too late.

~~~

Zaknafein Do'Urden sat cross-legged, staring out at the featureless plain in front of him. Somehow, this life after death had turned out to be quite different than he had expected. From his earliest memories until his death he had believed that all drow were inescapably tied to Lloth, and that the dark goddess would have control of his soul for all of eternity. Upon his death, he had expected Lloth to reach out and reclaim his soul again. Instead, he had somehow found himself here in a vast and unchanging world. To Zaknafein the space was a sanctuary. Here in a vast, unchanging world, Zaknafein had experienced the first true idleness he had ever encountered.

Zaknafein felt some sense of smugness in having evaded Lloth's clutches, though he was unsure of how it had happened, nor if he was the only one to escape. Zaknafein was the only one in this world and completely isolated from anyone who might have carried news on the happenings of the outside world. Well, nearly alone anyways. He had found company once, when the spirit of a visiting priest had come to visit him. It was on this occasion that he had learned of the outside world, and had been aided in speaking with his son.

Quietly, Zaknafein uttered his thanks to the priest for his mercy, and for the news he had been given. It was through this priest that he learned his son, Drizzt had escaped and found the surface world, leaving the Underdark as Zaknafein never had. That experience had been a relief and he was profoundly grateful for it, however …

Zaknafein resisted the urge to stand and pace, knowing that no matter how far he walked nothing he saw would change, nor would the motion provide any sort of relief from his emotions. Knowing of the world, and that his son was still alive in it, speaking with him had re-awakened Zaknafein's hunger for more. He wanted see his son again, to know what was happening and to follow his adventures, even if he could not interact with him. That was the safer dream. The other one, which Zaknafein tried not to think too much about, was to be there, at his son's side, and to live once more.

To be able to affect the world of the living again … for that he would give almost anything.

"Almost anything?"

Zak was on his feet in an instant, his hands automatically going to the places where his swords would have rested as he spun. Before him stood a woman of incredible beauty. She was lithe and graceful, with russet hair and brown eyes. She appeared to be human, but the feeling of power about her revealed what she truly was. Zaknafein bowed his head and dropped to his knees, then raised his gaze to meet that of the goddess.

"Does being apart from your son grow bring you that much sorrow?" she asked gently, an expression of kindness that seemed genuine.

"Only because I cannot be there for him," Zaknafein replied, not bothering to ask the goddess why she knew his thoughts. Instead he scrambled to think of a reason why a goddess, especially one from a world he'd never traveled to would be here to see him. "My apologies goddess, I do not know your name."  
She laughed, a silvery sound full of merriment and benevolence. "I am Mielikki."

Zaknafein's jaw dropped. The goddess his son followed had come to visit him? He tried to form words to speak, but found himself unable. Uneasily, he sat down once more. The goddess took a seat as well, sitting uncomfortably close.

"Why are you here?" Zaknafein blurted. The goddess looked at him sharply, and Zaknafein thought for a moment that she would punish him for his insolence.

Instead, she simply looked away and spoke softly. "I came to ask of you a favor."

Zaknafein jumped up, uncomfortable with her closeness and began to pace back and forth. "Ask a favor? In my experience goddesses take what they want, they don't ask."

"This one does," she replied, her voice still surprisingly even and calm. "My ways are different than the ways of your people. Is it so hard to believe that?"

Zaknafein shot her a look. "I have met one goddess, aside from yourself. That one killed me once, then had me brought back as a puppet under her control to kill my son. I think I am entitled to a bit of disbelief."

"Two actually," Mielikki corrected.

Zaknafein stopped.

_Surely you have not forgotten_, a voice echoed in his head. With it came a strange feeling of power and strength that he had nearly forgotten, and had assumed did not exist. Zaknafein felt faint. "That was you?" he asked in a voice that shook.

Mielikki shook her head. "That was Eiliastrae." She studied his face for a moment then sighed. "You may as well sit down. This is going to take some time to explain well."


	4. Chapter 4

Zaknafein sat, keeping a healthy distance between himself and the goddess. He did not expect that it would make a difference, should the goddess truly become enraged, but it still seemed comforting.

If Mielikki noticed his unease, she ignored it. It should not have been possible for us to meet, not like this. When you died, your soul should have gone to Kelemvor. God of the faithless, she explained. Those who follow no god become his after death. Kelemvor is protective of his charges. You would have been his forever.

And this Elstrea is different? Zaknafein thought he had done an admirable job of sounding respectful. Mielikki s expression told him otherwise.

Eilistraee, she corrected sharply. Show some respect. She chose to save you when you had need of aid, although she had nothing to gain from such an action.

My apologies, Zaknafein replied. This Eilistraee, he pronounced her name with deliberate care, lest he set off the goddess again, will I be meeting her as well?

She is dead. Killed by a foolish mortal pawn who thought she was vanquishing Lolth.

Mortals can do that? Zaknafein blurted. Suddenly he found Mielikki inches from his face. He tried to flinch back but found himself unable to move.

Have you no sense of gratitude? Eilistraee gave her life for her followers, for your people, drow, and all you can think to ask is whether or not such a feat could be repeated? Mielikki continued speaking but Zaknafein lost the meaning of her words as blind panic assailed him. He d had a long time to recover from the horror of being Lolth s puppet, controlled by Malice Do Urden, the matron mother of his house. As well, Zaknafein had had a long time to forget the full horror of having his body controlled by someone else. He had assumed that, as a spirit, he would have at last escaped this fate. Learning that he was wrong and that even in death he could not escape the wrath of a goddess was terrifying.

Zaknafein screamed without a sound as he battled to move, to break free of the goddess. Whether he fought for the eternity it seemed, for hours, or merely heartbeats, Zaknafein did not know. Only that with a ragged gasp and a jerk his body became his own again. He sank to the ground with ragged gasps as his body shook and trembled violently, aftershocks from the mental battle he had just waged and lost. He had lost, Zaknafein knew, as his breathing slowed and that awful feeling of helplessness began to recede, the goddess had chosen to let him go of her own volition.

With what composure he could manage, Zaknafein wiped at his face, then pulled himself into a sitting position to look at the goddess. She stood a few paces away, watching him. As their eyes met something flashed across her face, too quickly for him to catch.

This is gaining us nothing. All I have done is give you reason to believe that all gods are like your Spider queen, who used her people as pawns for her own amusement.

Zaknafein blinked at that, surprised that this goddess had come to the same conclusion about Lolthas he had.

Let s try this once more, Mielikki sat down as she spoke, keeping a reassuring distance away, I will explain why Eiliastraee risked so much to save one not of her own faith, and then you can ask me any questions you have. Fair?

Zaknafein nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak.

Eilistraee is was, the goddess corrected, a goddess of song, dance, swordwork, hunting, the moon and beauty. She opposed Lolth, and worked to counter her influence on the drow. She worked slowly, but steadily and she welcomed those drow who escaped the Underdark into her service.

Eiliastraee sought to redeem the drow and to return them to the surface world whenever possible. Her powers were limited but she did what she could to counter Lolth s influence. No doubt, the reason she took such an interest in you was simply to prevent Lolthfrom one more victory.

Why, Zaknafein managed, his voice hoarse and barely intelligible even to him. Mielikki frowned at the question but motioned for him to go on. Why did she she hate Lolthso much?

Why does any child oppose a parent they believe has done wrong? Mielikki smiled sadly, Araushnee was the consort of Corellon Larethian. For her betrayal, her trickery due to her lust for power she was banished and became Lolth. Your people were changed, and condemned to follow her. Eilistraee followed as well to offer the drow hope and a guidance to those who managed to escape Lolth s clutches.

And now?

Now, Eilistraee is gone. Her followers have been redeemed but the fate of each drow after this is something that they must decide on their own. It may be that one day they all escape her, as your son did when he fled from the Underdark and escaped to the surface world.

Zaknafein considered the possibility for the barest of moments, then shook his head. More likely that they will finally succeed in waging a war so complete that it leaves no survivors. Drizzt is unique not only in that he escaped, but that he wished to.

Much like his father. Zaknafein expected sarcasm. The warm approval on Mielikki s face took him by surprise. Your son fares well in the mortal world.

Zaknafein waited for her to go on, but Mielikki remained silent. The goddess looked past him, staring out into the featureless world as if she saw something that he could not. Awkwardly, Zaknafein cleared his throat.

You mentioned something about a favor?

No response. Realizing that the goddess was unlikely to welcome further interruptions, Zaknafein waited and wondered what sort of a task a goddess would possibly bother asking a mortal, and a drow at that, for help with.

Eilistraee was not the only god to fall recently. Within the past twenty-five years, more than a dozen gods have been slain. Mielikki stood as she spoke, turning away from him as she did so. Since your death, our world and yours have both been busy. Most were lost at a time when all gods walked the earth. Many were killed at the hand of other gods.

And the rest?

The rest were the result of mortals finding out that it is indeed possible to kill a god.

Zaknafein winced.

The worst has passed. Mielikki glanced briefly at him then began to pace. Most of the chaos has passed, order has been restored. And yet something is coming. Something which will alter our world again. Mielikki stopped, and looked at Zaknafein. He caught a flash of something in her eyes again and this time he knew it for what it was; dread. That is why I came to you.

Zaknafein s jaw dropped.

It was given to me to know that in all of the unrest, it would be possible for one to make a difference. Perhaps a large one, perhaps not so large, but one that would further my cause. That one is you. Mielikki paused for half a second, gauging his reaction, then continued. You are mortal, I do not expect you to save me or mine, slay a god, or indeed do anything which will affect this world, only the mortal one. That you can and will do, if given the chance. I will return you to life, and to your son. All you need do is agree.

And this task which I must do? Zaknafein s voice quavered as he spoke. He desperately wanted to believe that it could be that simple but he knew, beyond any doubt that there had to be a catch. He hadn t known many gods, but he knew enough to know that there was always some sort of consequence or repayment for a favor. One of the magnitude he was being asked to fulfill would have to cost dearly.

If I were to tell you it would alter the course of your actions, and change the outcome. Instead, I will tell you this, you will not be asked to do anything which you disagree with, nor will you be alone. Your son will fight with you, of his own choice. This much I have foreseen.

Zaknafein s heart leapt for joy at the thought of being reunited with his son. Surely, no matter what he was being asked to do, he could find a way to do so, if that was his reward. He allowed himself to imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like to see his son again and to speak with him in the flesh. Then he shook his head. As much as he wanted to, he knew that the task he had been charged with would be impossible. To accept a task of that great a responsibility which he could not fulfill would be wrong. Even if this goddess was feeling generous enough now to chance it, when he failed he would be made to pay, and possibly his son along with him.

I want to. I wish that I had the power to do these things that you have asked. But I cannot. And I cannot accept a mission from you that I will not be able to complete. In despair, Zaknafein felt tears come to his eyes and let them flow. He knew that he was doing the only thing that he could, but to have the chance to see his son again offered and to have to refuse it was nearly more than he could bear.

Dry your eyes. The Goddess said, suddenly very close. She cupped his chin with her hand and lifted his head so that his gaze met hers. You shall go, and you shall succeed. I will see to it that you have all that you need to do what I will ask of you. Mielikki smiled at him in reassurance. I am not seeking your guarantee that you will succeed, only that you will try. That will be enough. The only thing I am asking of you is that you accept my charge

Zaknafein considered the offer, as well as the source. This was the same goddess that his son had chosen to follow. She could have used that fact alone to try and threaten him and force him to do what she wished. Instead, she seemed to be attempting to convince him to join her cause and to do what she wished.

There is more that you need to know. I cannot send you directly to him. You know nothing of the ways of the surface world and you would be more of a hindrance than a help to him at this point. Also Mielikki s voice faltered, then continued, you will not remember who you were at first, nor will you remember this conversation until your quest is done.

I will pay whatever price is needed. Zaknafein said solemnly, and meaning it. For this kind of opportunity, he would gladly pay more than the price of whatever errand she sent him off to do.

Mielikki rose to her full height, seeming to grow in stature and power as she did so. It was only then that Zaknafein realized that she had appeared to him in a guise and that even the power that he had seen was less than her full power.

Zaknafein Do Urden, she spoke, her voice ringing with power, I do hereby charge you to perform a task, a request of my bidding, to be named in the future after you have returned to life and again found your son. Do you accept?

I do.

Mielikki motioned for him to rise again then put her hand on his left shoulder. Immediately it was bathed in light, and a sigil glowed there for a moment then faded.

Rest now, and when you wake you will be in the land of the living. Zaknafein s eyes closed as he fell into sleep. He felt his body, solid and strong again against the soft dirt and took his first lungful of surface air, then unconsciousness took him.

~

Mielikki took one final look at the drow sleeping within the forest clearing then returned to her home realm. She considered the now-useless gemstone in her hand, then sighed. She had done what she could.

Despite her proclamations and all of her seeming confidence, she knew little more than the drow did about what the future would bring him. For all of her confidence that he was the one that would be able to assist her, even she could not see the future nor understand how this lone drow might be of assistance to her. The future was yet undecided, and she could only hope that it would turn out in a way that favored her.

Rest well Zaknafein Do Urden, she murmured, for when you awake there will be much for you to do. 


	5. Chapter 5

Moonlight filtered down into the glade and the drow stirred as it hit his closed eyelids, then opened them. His eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before him. Above him was a blue-black dome so high he couldn t imagine how it was hung. In the dome were tiny pinpricks of light and a silver crescent much larger than any of the other shapes.

Stars, something in his head seemed to say, and the crescent is the moon.

That is well and good, he mumbled, but where am I? A moment later he knew he was in the surface world, a place that he knew of but had visited rarely, or not visited at all, which meant that he lived somewhere else or he had lived somewhere else. A wave of confusion swept over him followed by one of panic. Who was he? How had he come to this place and how would he survive? He resisted the urge to cry out in despair, but just barely. He looked up to the sky again, and to the moon with its silver light and felt very small and alone. A light breeze brushed by him and a noise that sounded something like a rattle started. He looked about frantically, then identified the noise as coming from the structures around him that reached up towards the sky, covered at the top by silvery-green wings. Each one seemed to be struggling violently against the others in a violent attempt to fly and the drow drew back from them in fear.

Leaves. They grow on trees and the wind is making them move. Fear not, the plant will not hurt you.

Tree, he repeated thoughtfully, rising to his feet in a graceful movement. He put his hand on the bottom of the tree, marveling at its roughness and the strength that he somehow knew it had.

Do you know who I am? He stared at the tree bottom as he spoke.

Trunk, the voice replied. He knew immediately that the voice was referring to the tree bottom and not to him. He sighed, then looked up towards the moon again.

Trunk, he repeated dutifully, resting his hand against the tree for a moment longer.

He left the tree and its bark behind him and walked into the thing the voice called a forest as he put aside his worries for the moment and concentrated on learning the words that he was being presented with. Even if this was the surface world, he was fairly certain that voices such as the one he heard were quite unusual, and that this one could disappear at any time. But for now he had a guide, and he was determined to learn all it had to teach him before it was gone.

He watched the sky lighten with the coming of the sun until the light was too bright and then turned away from it and walked far enough into the cave so that the sunlight could not irritate his eyes anymore. His guide had led him to this place, as well as to the stream he had quenched his thirst in and to the berries that had ended the beginnings of his hunger before it had the chance to truly begin. Secure in his new resting spot, the drow who did not know his name closed his eyes and curled up on the vegetation he d brought in as cushioning. Sleep overtook him as the sun came over the horizon and day began.

~

Elsewhere in the High Forest, as the sun rose in the sky, Iria Stormblossom awoke from her reverie. She watched the sun rise as she attempted to sort through what she had seen. She usually only half-remembered the things that came to her while in reverie but last night had been different. It had felt real.

It had begun in a moonlit field where she had found herself after wandering through the forest. The fields darkened as a cloud passed over the moon, then seemed to shine as brightly as day. In front of Iria appeared a unicorn and she gasped in awe. Throughout her life she had heard stories about the wondrous creatures more than once but had never dreamed that she would actually see one, for the unicorn was a symbol of the highest favor of her goddess, Mielikki. She took a tentative step towards it, and then another, her hands loose at her side and weaponless. To her astonishment the unicorn did not run away. Instead, it approached her. Iria reached out with a trembling hand and touched the unicorn s mane.

Iria Stormbossom, the unicorn spoke, addressing her. It was only because of her finely trained senses that Iria did not jump, though the realization that she was conversing with a unicorn nearly made her faint.

I am her, Iria replied after a long moment. Inwardly, she grimaced at her choice of words. As if there was a need for her to confirm who she was!

Mielikki bid me to visit you, and to make a request of you.

For a moment, Iria could not speak. Such was an honor she was not expecting nor entirely sure she could fulfill. As her servant I will do as Mielikki bids. Her voice sounded surprisingly steady to her own ears, much more confident than Iria herself felt in her abilities.

The unicorn made a sound of approval. Mielikki asks you to guard and guide one who has recently returned to this world until he is ready to venture off on his own. You do not know him yet but you will meet him soon.

Iria breathed a bit easier. For a moment she had feared that she would be given some epic task or quest that she could not manage. This I shall do gladly.

The Lady thanks you for your acceptance of this task, the unicorn replied and then seemed to vanish.

Wait, Iria called out in alarm, how will I recognize this person? How will I know who it is I am supposed to help?

The unnatural illumination died and the fields grew dark again, yet Iria found herself able to see. From behind her, she heard the sound of someone approaching and spun to face them.

In front of her was a drow. Iria reacted instantly, drawing her sword and readying for an attack. The drow moved back, his hands out before him indicating that he carried no weapons. Upon looking closer, Iria saw no place for him to even carry a weapon. He was dressed in a dark blue tunic and a set of pants, part of which had been torn off to form a makeshift bandage about his arm. His stark white hair was unbound and unkempt, and Iria wondered how long this drow had been in the wilderness. She expected anger and hatred, but his blue eyes were relatively calm. She noted that he seemed at least as wary as she was. Following an impulse she did not understand, she took her hands away from her weapons then crossed them over her chest.

The drow studied her, even less at ease than she was with the meeting. After a long, long moment, he strode towards her, his ebony skin seeming to shine in the moonlight. He was handsome, Iria noted, in the way that all drow seemed to be. Stranger still, despite everything she knew of the drow, she found herself inclined to trust this one, or at least not kill him on sight.

The drow smiled in what looked like relief and bowed his head to her.

Who are you? she said aloud.

The drow shook his head and then met her gaze one last time. Then he vanished and Iria was left in the middle of the field, alone.

That was when she had awoken from her reverie, thoroughly shaken by the manner of what she had seen. Drow were evil by nature, every last one of them. Iria fingered the scar that started at her temple traveled across her face, one of the most visible, but certainly not the only scar she carried from drow encounters. She might have been willing to consider that her people could be misguided about the drow when she was younger, but she had long since learned better. The drow themselves had proven to her exactly what sort of fiends they were. The dream was a lie. It had to be a lie. She knew that.

But the silvery-white hair she d found in her hand when she awoke would not allow her to dismiss the dream as easily as that. 


	6. Chapter 6

The drow with no name awoke that evening to the sun still in the sky and watched the light from day filter into the cave. He had thought to venture out in the sunlight, but had learned the folly of that quickly. Approaching the exit of the cave had been too much for his eyes, blinding him and forcing him to find his way back towards the darkness of the cave while he waited for his vision to recover. Even inside the cave, the light pained his eyes. However, it felt good on his skin, bringing a feeling of warmth and security. He felt a curious sense of relief, as if the sunlight was driving away some lingering taint or darkness on his soul. He shook his head at the idea but found that he could not deny it entirely. Something about this place seemed to call out to him. He knew not where he had come from but he did know that this place was infinitely better.

When the sun finally set and it was dark enough for him to be comfortable he ventured out, walking about the forest he now called home. Even at night, the forest hummed with life. He heard the calls of animals as they went about their nightly routines. To his sensitive ears the calls seemed as if they were made by creatures he could have reached out and touched, yet he saw few signs of life. The moon was a touch fuller this night, as he had been told to expect, and he wondered what it would look like when it was full.

He sat down by the riverbank and considered his situation. The voice had told him of many things but it did not know or chose not to reveal his name or how he had come here. He accepted his lot stoically, hoping that if he searched long enough he would find someone who knew his name. Whoever he had been, there must have been others that knew him. Allies, or family perhaps? His dreams that night had been full of voices but no bodies or faces, though one particular voice brought a painful tug to his heart.

The voice that had guided him last night was gone and he knew that he would not hear from it again. He had been given the information he needed to survive. The rest would be up to him. He knew this. He also knew that he could not remain in this place forever. Something, he knew not what, was calling him, telling him to leave this place and that there was someone he needed to find.

With these thoughts in his head, he left the forest grove and ventured out into the forest beyond. He traveled all night, walking towards the place he knew the sun would come. With the coming of dawn he found a new place to rest, this time in a hollow tree where he watched the beginning of the sunrise a second time then went to sleep.

~

Unsettled, and uneasy with the dream that haunted her waking moments, Iria decided that it was time to leave her home in the grove she had made her own and to venture out for a time. She had been meaning to do so for some time, but things had come up, and delay after delay had kept her from traveling.

Iria patrolled rarely enough that she had no set path, nor would anyone expect to meet her. The High Forest was blessedly untouched by humans and their civilizations for the most part, with most of the inhabitants being elves like her. To herself, she wondered which direction she should travel towards.

To the south lay miles of untouched wilderness, beyond which was a human settlement she had visited perhaps twice in her life. To the east lay a road that she had traveled often, though not recently. Iria smiled as she thought of High Home, the elven village where her kin lived. It was the one place she knew she would always be welcome, no matter how the world seemed to change around her.

She thought of her kinfolk who still lived there, especially of her younger brother who would now be nearing his second century of life. Erris had always had an uncanny skill at understanding her and a knack for unweaving the meaning of dreams, and that was a skill she was very much in need of right now. Even after replaying the dream countless times in her mind, she could not decide whether she believed the message or not. She resisted the urge to pull out the piece of hair she had found, knowing that the hair held no answers for her. She had deliberately placed it at the bottom of her pack, wrapped in a scrap of cloth. The cloth had come from a shirt that she had long ago cut up for bandages. The shirt had seemed well worn when she had cut it up but, glancing down, Iria realized even her most well kept clothes were now of about the same state of disrepair. While she was not one to be concerned over fancy dress she knew full well that come winter she would regret having less than travel-ready clothes. While she could make those herself, there were other supplies that she could not make so easily, but that her kin would be happy to supply.

Recalling this, and remembering how much she wished to see her brother again, the choice became much simpler. Iria turned to the east, back towards home.

Several days later, Iria reached a pair of ancient oak trees that rose gracefully to meet far above her head. It was these trees that told her she was almost home, for they marked one of the places her people met travelers as well as other elves, and one of the places most heavily patrolled by her people. Indeed, it seemed she had only gone a few paces before an elf called out to her in greeting.

Iria offered her own greeting to the scout as he walked to met her and accepted his offer as company during her walk back to the village. She asked him one or two questions about how the village was faring which he answered readily enough. After that Iria did her best to answer the steady stream of questions the youngling had about the world at large.

Few from Iria s village traveled outside their beloved forests. Among her people, Iria was a rare exception, and she had been called upon more than once to describe the human s cities and the strange creatures she had seen before she had returned to High Forest. Though her people knew every forest creature and herb of the area and met travelers on adventures, they had never seen much of the world at large. At times she felt sorry for them but at times she was envious of their simple lives, especially after she had seen some of the atrocities humans and the other creatures of Faerun were capable of. In High Home though, such thoughts were impossible to dwell upon.

Iria paused briefly at the entrance to the village as she always did, admiring it. For all of the time that she had spent adventuring, for all of the wondrous cities and structures she had seen, human or otherwise, none meant nearly so much to her as High Home.

A traveler coming to High Home for the first time would be forgiven for not immediately realizing that they had entered a village. A large meeting hall, built to accommodate celebrations, as well as the occasional traveler was the only large structure, and it was cunningly built to resemble the broad, ancient trunk that it was built around. Aside from that, only the carefully maintained gardens at each tree s base, and the presence of a series of ladders gave an indication of what was above.

A series of bridges connected broad, sturdy branches, upon which the wood elves of High Home built their residences. Each home was unique, matching the personality of the elf who inhabited it, as well as the shape of the tree itself. Some of the homes were themselves natural extensions of the trees, which had been carefully grown and altered to create space for living. In the past, Iria herself had assisted with the creation of several of these homes, though mostly she had sat back and watched in awe as these homes were constructed. The perfect merging of nature and civilization was no small part of why Iria loved High Home so much, and why she was struck with awe every time she returned to it.

Iria shook off her wonder quickly enough and settled down to business. She met with the elders of the village briefly, then went of to find her brother. Because his home was so new, it was on one of the lower boughs of the village. Iria found her brother below his home, on the ground, tending to his garden. Unable to resist, she watched him at work for a moment, then approached him silently and tapped him on the shoulder.

Instantly, Erris spun to face his imagined opponent, the tiny shovel he had been using coming in front of him in a defensive posture.

It is good to see you again brother. Iria said cheerfully, choking back the laughter that seeing him in such a ridiculous posture brought.

And you as well sister, Erris replied, then added ruefully. Though next time you come to visit I would appreciate a word of greeting before you decide to test my reflexes!

Iria moved her hands into a graceful gesture of apology, then pulled a small medallion from one of the pouches she wore about her waist and presented it to Erris.

Erris eyes lit up as he studied this latest gift from his elder sister, a golden pendant with the symbol for Corellon Lantheon, his god. Iria had given him his first symbol to the god when he had decided his path and she had made a point to search for others when she went adventuring.

Iria listened as her brother related to her the happenings and events of the village, and filled her in on the news and happenings of the village. Iria shook her head in wonderment at all changes. The village fared well, perhaps too well! Iria wondered how the village could continue to expand to accommodate the new children and growing children that the passing decades had brought. Erris seemed of a like mind, and he expressed his own concerns about the size, as well as possible solutions to Iria. Erris seemed happy to have a captive audience, and Iria was more than willing to listen, appreciating the sound of another s voice after spending so much time alone.

To herself, Iria wondered how long it would be before Erris was invited to join the elders. Given what he had to say, Iria could not imagine that he would be kept waiting too long. Talents like his were far too useful. Already, even with his limited voice, Erris had circumvented several small tragedies by advising the elders to act a certain way. With the thoughts of her brother s surprising wisdom, Iria again remembered her own troubles, and an expression of worry crossed her face.

Is something troubling you? Erris asked, his gold-flecked blue eyes lit with worry.

Not much, just I had a dream a few nights back which keeps on coming back to my thoughts. Iria frowned. Despite her best attempts to uncover what her dream might mean, she was still not sure whether she believed that she had been sent a message or whether it was merely a dream.

Tell me about it? Erris asked leaning forward to take her hand as he spoke.

Iria grinned at her brother s expression, a mixture of curiosity and concern. Erris seemed to be happiest when he was pondering the troubles of others and trying to find a way to offer council. He was young yet, and far more serious than someone as young as he was ought to be. Iria suspected by the next time she visited, Erris would be included amongst the village elders, or at least a highly respected member of the community. Until then, however, he was her younger brother and she intended to treat him as such.

Iria laughed and pulled away from him. So serious! Is this how you would welcome your favorite sister home from her journeys?

You are my only sister, Erris pointed out.

Iria nodded. All the more reason that I must be your favorite. Today is a day for celebration! If you wish to welcome me home, pray do it with a bit more happiness than that!

Erris sighed and dropped his gaze. When he looked up, he wore an expression of exaggerated surprise and glee. Welcome home sister! I am so glad to see you back from your travels! Would you perhaps have a story to tell me, or a dream?

Iria snorted. You never learn. Tonight. After we celebrate, I will tell you about the dream. Until then, try to enjoy yourself for once! Tonight is a celebration.

Erris sighed, knowing that he would get nothing else from his sister until after the night s festivities were over. There had not been a celebration planned earlier, but Iria s return to her home would serve as the perfect excuse, and the wood elves of High Home rarely passed up an excuse for a good party. 


	7. Chapter 7

As the sun set, the drow set out from a hollow tree once more and began his travels. Over the past few days he had been leaving his shelter a little earlier in the evening and abandoning his trek to search for shelter closer to the sunrise. The difference seemed miniscule, almost too little to count for anything, but being so helpless in sunlight, he knew, was a vulnerability he could not afford.

On that odd thought, the drow considered again his predicament. Weaponless, with no supplies, nor any sense of where exactly he was or where he was going, even if he could withstand the sun s light he would hardly be in an enviable position. That he had survived whatever had left him bereft of memory seemed remarkable enough. The drow wondered to himself what would have left him weaponless but alive. Going by how strange it felt not to have weapons, the drow knew that at one time he must have carried them daily.

These thoughts and speculations on where he traveled filled his mind as he traveled, many of them much darker than the drow wished. Try as he might to explain it, he could come up with no innocent reason that he would be here on the surface world and his thoughts wandered to darker fears. Despite this, the drow stayed alert; an action that saved him from complete catastrophe.

The drow s thoughts scattered as he heard the sound of a branch snapping not so far away and the sound of voices. He stopped moving, almost stopped breathing as the voices seemed to get closer to him. Ahead, he could see a clearing through the vegetation. No doubt, the travelers were heading and past there. With that in mind, the drow moved further back behind a tangle of brush and waited.

The group was in view soon enough, a party of four humans accompanied by a dwarf and a surface elf. The humans carried torches, and their glow encompassed both the party and their immediate surroundings. Silently, the drow sank lower to the ground, not wanting to give these travelers any chance to find him. Each was armed, and armed well. He knew that with no armor or weapons he would be an easy target for them. Still, as long as they did not seem to see him, he should be safe enough.

The dwarf seemed more intent on the trail ahead than in looking for hidden adversaries and the humans seemed more intent on the path, and in their own conversation, which was in a tongue that he could not understand. However, the elf seemed alert to his surroundings. As if his thoughts had been a cue, the surface elf looked in his direction. Their eyes met. Chaos followed.

The elf shouted something to his companions then drew his bow and fired an arrow. The drow reeled, crying out at the sudden pain. He rose to his feet as another arrow came by him, this one barely missing. At the same time the humans and the dwarf came charging through the underbrush.

The drow ran, taking the charging party in a zigzag route through the forest in an attempt to shake them off. Unencumbered and desperate as he was, he outran them easily. He heard more sharp words in a foreign tongue, but did not bother to slow. His shoulder throbbed, and blood ran freely down his arm but he knew better than to stop to dress his injury until he was safely away. He had no doubts that, given another chance to hit him, the surface elf would not miss.

Once he got far enough away to chance it, he scrambled up a tree, moving from branch to thick branch to break any trail that he might have left on the ground. With full night coming quickly he doubted that the group would be able to follow his path for long, but he saw no reason to give them any help in finding him. It was clear enough what the result of a further meeting with this group would be. He stopped, finally, by a clear running stream and climbed down from the trees slowly. He gritted his teeth as he pulled the arrow out, then tore off a section of his pants and wrapped it tightly about his arm to staunch the flow of blood.

For a long time after that he sat, staring down into the swiftly running water and wondering if all encounters with those of the surface world were destined to end this way.

~

Iria and Erris sat out under the stars, watching as the last of the revelry for the night ended. Having already shared the most pressing news of their lives, they merely sat together, enjoying the silence and the peace.

It was this peacefulness that often gave the village an appearance of timelessness. The village was a haven, Iria knew. In a world that was often turbulent and fraught with troubles, she knew that she could always return to it and expect to find that little had changed, year after year. Of course, it was also this sameness that routinely drove her away from the village in order to sate her wanderlust.

Erris had advised her to either forget her dream or to take it to mean that indeed, her goddess would soon have a mission for her, though he doubted very much that it would have anything to do with a drow.

The drow are evil creatures by nature, He reminded her, though she had been the one who taught him that. The drow have proven what they are time and time again. You yourself have fought against them, and have seen their cruelty. You know as well, if not better than I that they have no compassion, loyalty, nor anything other than hatred and anger. They are completely, inescapably, evil.

Iria had to agree, as little as she wanted to. Still, the face of the drow from her dreams remained with her. He had seemed so alone.

~

The sun rose and the drow found a place to rest for the day, this time in the well-shaded branches of a tree. Despite his worries about being followed, there was no other way he could spend his hours while the sun was high.

He slept through the day again and continued on his travels, still not sure of where exactly he was going to. Before he had met the elf and his companions he had been going in a fairly straight path, but in escaping them he had lost track of where he was. For the past two days he had been following the sun but now he was not certain that was the safest course.

The drow paused in thought for a long moment, considering his route. Perhaps it was because of some unknown god s favor, or merely because his senses were keener, but he heard the sounds of activity and found a place to hide long before the traveler, another elf, came into view. This time he managed to spot the elf yet not be found in return. At first he feared that this was the same elf that he had come across the night before, but this one had a copper tint to his skin as opposed to the pale white that he remembered and his hair was black rather than red. Before the drow had a chance to heave a sigh of relief the elf disappeared, taking a route through the trees. The drow remained motionless for a few long minutes, then nearly jumped when the slight crackle of brush announced that another was nearing. Another elf passed without a second glance at the drow, apparently taking the same path as the one before her. After a moment of hesitation, the drow decided to follow the two and see where they were going. Cautiously, the drow followed at a distance, keeping well away from the pair. He had no doubt that the elves were more than proficient with the bows that they carried, and he did not wish to repeat his experience from the night before.

The second elf caught up with the first soon enough and the two began talking in what the drow could only assume was their native tongue. What they were saying he couldn t be sure but by their postures and tones they seemed to be quite at home. While he could not see them well enough to be sure of their ages, to the drow they seemed very young. Old enough to be posted as sentries, but young enough not to have seen enough evil to believe that it could sneak up on them unawares. He envied their sense of security.

The two had not been talking long before another set of two elves appeared and exchanged greetings. The first set of two then started off in the direction opposite to where he was watching, and the second two parted ways, one going to the right and one going to the left.

He waited until he was sure the elves were gone, then moved away as rapidly as he dared. It was only after he was certain that he was well out of the range of the elves sight and arrows that he stopped to consider his course. The elves had to be patrolling the area in an attempt to ward against outsiders attacking their home. Unlike drow, elves tended to be much more unified when it came to community and guarded it as a whole regularly, rather than merely when it proved to be more convenient to do so. Somehow he also knew that the surface elves were very cautious about guarding the area they called home and that they often set patrols around their homes in order to keep intruders out.

Of course, if one wished to attack the settlement it was easiest to disable or kill the sentries first. The typical drow hand-crossbow, with darts that forced enemies to sleep were most effective. Their potency weakened if they were exposed to the sunlight for too long, but as most drow raids only took place over the span of one night, this was rarely an issue. Of course, to avoid the sentries altogether, it was best if one attacked during one of their holy days. It was then that they would be most unaware, and most defenseless

He froze, as stricken as he would have been had the sentries fired an arrow into his heart at that moment. Where had that knowledge come from? How would he know such things? Did he ?

The drow moaned and sank to his knees in the forest.

What have these hands done? he said aloud, why is it that I cannot remember my name or where I am from but I can remember how to destroy an elven village?

Dogged by confusion and guilt, he walked on until dawn, though he stayed awake, staring at the sun and welcoming the pain it brought for a long time after that, tormented by questions of what he had done and afraid of what his dreams would reveal to him. 


	8. Chapter 8

Iria came out of reverie the next morning to the sound of measured, staccato footsteps. She opened her eyes to see her brother pacing back and forth anxiously. As she rose to her feet he turned to meet her gaze. Without any attempt to communicate Iria knew that something terribly important had happened. She quirked an eyebrow at him, and Erris nodded, then cleared his throat.

An adventurer came to our village late last night with news of a possible enemy. Both he and the village elders wish to speak with you.

Iria left her brother s tree home and climbed to the ground, then hurried to the village meeting hall, where all guests were kept. Once inside she saw both a village elder and a moon elf with elaborately braided red hair in full armor. His skin was nearly white with tinges of blue, and he carried a sword at his hip and a quiver and bow were strung across his back. He was talking intently with the village elder, and Iria waited until she caught the village elder s eye before moving forward.

Iridaria Stormblossom, the elder said by way of introduction, using her full name. His face showed too much relief for Iria to complain at the formality as she would have any other time. The other elf turned to look at her as well, though his expression showed more surprise than relief. Realizing that she was clad in little more than a tunic and leggings, Iria understood why immediately. His expression changed abruptly as he realized the marks on Iria s face and arms were scars, not decorative paint.

My apologies for my state of dress, Iria said, gesturing towards herself as she did so, I came as soon as I heard that there was trouble. She politely ignored the moon elf s expression, giving him time to recover. Moon elves are so fussy sometimes, she thought to herself, amused that it took so little to rattle even seasoned adventurers such as this one.

The moon elf recovered quickly, schooling his expression to one of neutrality. Trouble. From the west. I was traveling not four days from your village when my party came across a drow.

Drow? Iria repeated, feeling faint. She shifted positions slightly to hide the sudden weakness in her knees.

The moon elf nodded grimly. I fired an arrow at him and I believe I hit, but he took off at a speed that my group could not match. We attempted to track him but he took to the trees and we lost his path. Your elder has told me that you have much experience with drow and would be of help on this matter.

Iria considered the elf s tale for a moment. Why would a lone male drow travel so close to her home? She ruthlessly quashed thoughts of the dream she had been sent. Are you so certain that there was only one? she asked instead.

I am as certain as I can be, Lady Stormblossom. The moon elf assured her. We found no traces of other footprints and I cannot believe that if there was more than one of them that they would have allowed my group to pursue or to survive to bring word to nearby villages. Especially with one of our kind leading.

Iria nodded, knowing truth when she heard it. That this drow had not even tried to strike back meant that he was probably traveling alone. Drow preferred to operate in secrecy until it was too late to stop them. Given how close her village was, if that was their target they would have silenced the moon elf s group. There was only one drow, or that there were too many of them and that their goal was too massive to be disrupted by the appearance of a single elf. The memory of her dream came to her again, and Iria banished it ruthlessly. Older, and much more potent memories came to mind, and Iria banished these too.

She paused a moment more to regain her shattered nerves, a moment she masked with a look of contemplation. Which way did the drow come from? she asked, when at last she trusted her voice.

The moon elf pointed to the southwest.

Iria nodded, not nearly as surprised as she would have liked to be. The last time she had dealt with drow they had come from the southwest as well. As soon as I gather my supplies and become travel-ready I will begin my search for this drow. We will have our answers, one way or another.

The moon elf made a halfhearted offer to assist her, but Iria turned him down, not wanting to get another involved in the search. She absently thanked him for his news then left him to talk with the village elder. Iria half-ran, half-flew back to her brother s home. In as few words as she could manage, she informed him of what she had been told and of her plans as she donned her traveling gear and packed up the few things she had brought with her, as well as what she had been able to requisition on such short notice.

Iria, please be careful. Erris pleaded after they had said their goodbyes.

As always, I will be. She reassured him, though Erris did not look reassured. Impulsively, she embraced her younger brother, willing him to understand that she would do everything she could to ensure that she came back, unless her death would keep the village safe.

I will return as soon as I can. She promised as Erris reluctantly let her go.

With those words, Iria set off to hunt down the drow.

~

Night came and the drow miserably pondered where he should travel next. Though sunlight had prevented him from traveling, he had not slept. Fear over what he might remember while unconscious had banished any such thoughts from his mind.

Unfortunately, consciousness was not enough to keep his fears away. When he shut his eyes he remembered the sound of battles that he couldn t remember. He heard the babble of voices, and worst of all he heard the sound of children screaming. These voices stayed teasingly at the edge of his memory, refusing to be recalled properly as they hinted at darker things he had done.

He had wanted to scream out his denial of these dark fears, yet he could not do so. He had no way to affirm or deny for certain that he was what he feared, though from what snatches of memory he could call his own it seemed quite possible that the worst was true.

That thought had driven him out of the tree he had been resting in and to the ground. Blinded by the sunlight, he had closed his eyes stumbled through the forest as best he could. He picked up many cuts and scrapes from falls through the underbrush, but he did not care. The drow welcomed these minor pains, as well as the harsher one from the sun as a punishment for what he feared he had done.

Sunset had brought a respite from the brilliance of the sun and it had brought some calmness to the drow as well. He stopped at a stream to wash off the worst of the dirt and blood from his clothes and re-orient himself.

After some consideration, he decided to continue walking parallel to the village, not because it was the best way to go but because he needed to keep moving so that he would stop thinking. Overhead the moon was now full though clouds kept passing over it, making the terrain blindingly light one moment and dark the next.

His attention, however, was not on his surroundings but rather on what was going on inside his head. What have I done and why can I not remember it? The thought came to him that perhaps the faerie elf s hatred was not misplaced. Could it be that he was being hunted because of some horrible misdeed he had done? The longer he thought on it, the more likely it seemed.

But what was he to do? How could he remedy his wrongs? He pondered these questions as he walked out of the forest and into a moonlit field, then froze as he heard the sound of a blade being drawn. Tormented by his own thoughts, he had been completely oblivious to his surroundings. He stopped and turned slowly. In front of him was an armed faerie elf with long brown hair and copper skin. She seemed to be watching him, judging him with her gaze. Another hunter, he decided. He had run from the last one out of ignorance and cowardice, but he knew what he was now. He would not run again. This time he would await the elf s judgment for whatever it was that he had done.

The elf advanced, sword at the ready. On instinct, he took a step back, then paused and put his hands at his side, palms out to show that he carried no weapon.

For a moment the elf merely looked surprised. Then, her eyes widened, her expression changing to what looked like recognition. She slid her sword back into its scabbard and she crossed her hands over her chest. The sign was one that the drow recognized, a sign of peace that was common amongst his people. Astounded by his turn in luck, he bowed his head to her. Perhaps she knew who he was.

The elf said something to him in a tongue which he did not understand and he came to comprehend the folly in his way of thinking. He shook his head then raised it, biting his lip to keep from showing the disappointment he felt.

The faerie elf stood still for a moment, as if she was pondering what to do, then she smiled and began walking towards him. His instincts screamed at him to run, but he decided against it. If the elf wanted him dead, she would have killed him already. He took a reluctant step towards her. He managed only one before he felt something hit his chest and he crumpled to the ground.

Pain hit the drow a few heartbeats later with enough force to nearly make him faint. He would have gladly taken leave of his senses then, if not for the faerie elf s shout of protest. He opened his eyes and found himself on his back on the ground. In front of him was the elf woman, and facing her with a bow and arrow was the elf that he had run from before. The two elves began talking in sharp tones back and forth. He put a hand to his chest, around the shaft of an arrow, and pulled himself into a crouching position, gasping with pain as he did so, and both of the elves turned to look at him for a moment, then went back to shouting at each other again.

I know not where you came from drow, the male elf spat in the drow tongue, nor how you managed to convince one of my people that you were anything other than evil but I have not been fooled. I will kill her to get at you. The drow s eyes went wide at the proclamation, for he had no doubt that the elf spoke the truth.

Slowly, the drow rose to his feet and stepped out from behind the elven female. She made a noise of protest and moved as if to protest, but stilled when he met her gaze. Satisfied that she would not be a problem, the drow again turned his attention to the other elf. Again, he put his hands out to show that he held no weapon.

The elf was less than impressed. He knocked another arrow, and took aim. Keep moving forward and I will kill you, the elf assured him.

I believe you mean to kill me anyway, the drow replied. Nonetheless, he stopped.

The elf shrugged noncommittally. Probably. Are you going to try and stop me?

The drow shook his head. Kill me if you must, but not her. She has done nothing wrong.

The elf shook his head in disbelief. What kind of drow are you that you would act to prevent a faerie elf from shooting another of their kind? Who are you? How did you come here? Why do you carry no weapons?

The drow let his arms drop to his sides. In a voice that shook with pain and despair he spoke three words.

I know not.

His legs gave out and the drow fell into darkness. 


	9. Chapter 9

Iria watched, horrified, as the drow collapsed. She heard an angry shout in a feminine voice; it took her a moment to realize that it was her own. By then she was already running towards the drow. The dream had been true, she realized with astonishment. Despite her doubts she had found the drow and the scene from her dream had played out the same. Everything had gone exactly as it was supposed to, until the moon elf appeared.

Iria cursed her own carelessness. Even though she had not adventured for years, she remained a ranger. Distracted as she was, she still should have known that she was being followed long before the elf attacked the drow.

She knelt, rummaging frantically through her pack for the bandages that she knew she had packed. The arrow had gone deep into the drow's chest and Iria wondered how she could possibly pull it out without causing more harm. Her hand closed about a strip of cloth and she cried out in relief then reached for the arrow.

The other elf caught her arm before she could touch it.

"Do not." He said in a low voice.

Iria whirled towards him, enraged beyond words. She brought a hand to the hilt of her sword, more than ready to club the elf into senselessness if she needed to. The elf held up his hands, showing that he carried no weapons. Iria glanced behind him and saw that he had set his bow, arrows, and even his sword and dagger aside before approaching.

The elf ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. "That arrow is not going to be easy to get out. It is too close to the heart. You will need someone to hold him steady if you want to remove the arrow without causing further damage. Otherwise you will kill him."

Iria then studied the other elf for a moment, then pointedly wriggled her trapped hand. He dropped it, and brought his head lower so that his elaborate braids touched the dirt. "I am not a priest but I have some training in the ways of medicine. I can help."

"As you helped by following me, and then shooting the drow?"

"I made a mistake." he admitted.

"A moment ago you wanted me to step aside so that you could kill him." Iria said angrily, "Why should I trust you to save his life now?"

"Because …" the moon elf swallowed hard, then continued, "Because I believe that you were right. I was wrong. I should not have fired."

Iria found herself taking a perverse pleasure in the other elf's halting speech, then brushed away that feeling and turned back to the drow. As much as she did not want to trust him, she had no other options.

"We don't have time to argue," she conceded. She pulled a dagger from her boot and handed it to the other elf. He started to cut the ragged shirt away from the arrow, then gasped.

Iria looked down at the drow's shoulder and did the same. In a silvery white color that showed strongly against the drow's dark skin the image of a unicorn glowed. The mark of Mielikki.

The other elf apparently knew the significance of the mark as well for he uttered a low prayer to the goddess Hanali Celanil that this might go well as Iria said one of her own.

Mielikki, forgive me for the ignorance I have shown, she thought, I promise that if this drow survives I shall do everything in my power to protect him.

The arrow had gone in deep. Iria found that she had to force the tip through the drow's shoulder. Fortunately for him, the drow remained unconscious throughout the entire ordeal. Having received similar treatment herself, Iria had a fair idea of how much of a mercy that was.

To her surprise, the moon elf did exactly as promised, offering advice where needed, then backing away and letting Iria handle things. He seemed repentant enough, but Iria found herself unwilling to trust him. Drow were the natural enemy of all elves, and even if this particular elf had not caused the wound she was treating, Iria would not have trusted him. Truth be told, she would not have trusted herself in this situation had she any other choice.

Due to that, she was not amused when the elf made as if to unroll his sleeping pack. Her surprise and gratitude for his help was fading, leaving her anger and resentment burning as strong as ever. Iria welcomed the wrath.

"You are not staying here tonight," Iria informed the moon elf.

The elf paused, but did not look up.

"You followed me, and you attacked someone unarmed and defenseless. The only reason I am not giving you the beating you so richly deserve is because you assisted me. Even if you were the cause of the injuries you assisted with."

The elf flinched, but said nothing. Paradoxically, his compliance and continuing unwillingness to meet Iria's gaze only served to enrage her further. She stood and stalked over to the other elf.

"Get out. Now."

Now at last, the elf looked up. He seemed unsurprised, as if he had been waiting for her to do this. His reply was calm and smug.

"Do you really trust me enough to send me away?"

Iria rocked back on her heels, caught by the unexpected question. She knew the elf had traveled with a group of adventurers, and that his group also knew of the drow. She also knew full well that should his group decide to come after her and the drow they would win. She had never been a master at swordwork, even when she was a traveler and adventurer.

Iria swore in elvish.

"You cannot send me away, and you dare not let me stay here," the moon elf said, neatly summing up her predicament. Iria knew he was right. But she did not like hearing it from him.

"I could kill you," she said, mostly to unsettle him. The words were out before Iria had thought them through and realized that the elf would never fall for the bluff.

The other elf shook his head. "Between the two of us, I am obviously the more violent. And even I would not kill a well-meaning fool, no matter how tempting it was."

Iria nodded grudgingly, disliking the fact that he was right nearly as much as she disliked his calm and knowing tone of voice. The elf smiled and it took all of Iria's self-control not to punch his face. Perhaps out of self-preservation, the moon elf paused and waited for her response. Iria thought it a wise move.

"You have a suggestion," Iria stated at last, after the silence had become unbearable.

"Hear me out, and give me a chance to apologize," the elf offered, "if it does not please you I will leave and you will have my vow of silence. If it does … consider letting me stay for a short time longer?"

"And why should I trust your vow?" Iria did not bother to entertain the thought of allowing this elf to stay.

The elf ignored the question, sitting down as he spoke. "My name is Kannath."

Although she thought it a wasted effort, Iria sat down as well. However she pointedly made certain she was between the elf and the drow.

The elf continued on, ignoring her expression. "I told the drow that I would kill you to get to him. He stepped in front of you and offered his life. That is something that drow do not do. Why this one? And why does he carry a mark from a surface goddess?"

The elf paused, his confusion showing clearly. It seemed to Iria that he was waiting for her to explain things. She stared at him until he looked away. She knew it was silly, and probably quite childish of her, but that did not stop her from enjoying it.

"Your village elders sent me after you. They were worried that you would find trouble you would be unable to face, and that you had faced drow before."

Iria groaned at the reference. "They told you?"

"They told me you were the survivor of Sembridge." The elf raised his head to look at her. His awe made Iria cringe. "Is it true that you-"

"No." Iria cut him off before he could get going. "Whatever you are about to ask, the answer is no. I was just someone who managed to survive when all the other poor fools did not. That is all," she finished in a tone that brooked no argument. At least, she hoped that it did not. Iria glanced down, studying the ground below her feet.

"Nonetheless, you are well known for that, at least hereabouts," the moon elf said, "they still talk of Sembridge in taverns. Especially when rumors of drow come about."

"It is not something I wanted." Iria grumbled at the ground. Even when she was younger and still traveling, questions like that had been something that she had disliked. Now that she had been away from adventuring for years, every respectful, prying question simply set her on edge.

"I would never have imagined." The elf replied in serious tones. His grin told Iria that it was all in jest. He met her gaze for a moment, then became somber.

"Your village feared for you. That was why they asked me to follow you. I thought that surely it would be unnecessary at first. But, Lady Stormblossom, I am a bard. We are much better known for our ability to make noise and attract a crowd than our skills at being quiet or unseen. That I followed so easily, and that you did not notice me …" the elf paused as if he was too uneasy to continue. Iria was grateful for it, as she needed no reminders of how gruesome a fate awaited those who were foolish enough to wander the High Forest unprepared. "I vowed to see you return safely. When that drow appeared and approached you, I did not think. I acted."

Iria considered his tale for a moment. Given what he had said, and given her own knowledge of the drow, she understood the moon elf quite well. What made less sense, and what Iria still could not understand was how this elf had so quickly come to change his mind. Iria knew for certain if she was in his position the drow would have been dead by now. More out of curiosity now than actual hostility, she pressed the elf once more.

"Unarmed and injured, I think I could have handled anything he would have done." Iria nodded towards the unconscious drow as she spoke.

"As I said, I was wrong. Lady Stormblossom-" the elf began.

"Iria," she corrected him. "If I can call you Kannath then you can call me Iria. As you my have guessed I am not a fan of fancy titles."

The elf, Kannath, grinned. "Iria then."

"You may as well rest while you can," Iria continued, "you have second watch. You can stay here for tonight and through tomorrow. From there, we can decide what to do together."

Kannath brightened as if she had offered a precious gift rather than assigned him to stand guard over a drow he had tried to kill only an hour ago and a wood elf who had been attacking him for it since then. He slipped into reverie, leaving Iria to watch over the moon elf and the drow both and wonder what she had gotten herself into.


	10. Chapter 10

The drow came back to consciousness slowly; first noting the feel of cool air on his face, then the feel of a blanket around his body and the constricting tightness that could only come from a bandage. The sounds of a peaceful night came next, then finally the shooting pain in his chest which told him he was still alive. Involuntarily, he hissed in pain. Nearby, he heard the sound of footsteps, and he opened his eyes. He saw the female elf sitting a few paces away, then turned to see the other elf approaching. He flinched away as the surface elf moved toward him and knelt, expecting the elf to draw a weapon and finish him off. Instead, the surface elf stared at him for a few long moments, then offered him a small flask.

"Drink this."

Carefully, the drow raised himself into a sitting position, and took the flask from the elf. He sniffed at it experimentally as the elf turned away. The flask smelled sweet and the drow was thirsty, but he found himself desiring answers more than whatever was in the flask. Carefully, he set it down.

"Why did you not kill me?" His voice came out low and harsh, more like an accusation than the question had meant it to be.

The elf turned back towards him, looking a bit surprised at the question. "I expected that you would be unhappy at me when you awoke. However, I did not think that you would be upset that I missed."

The drow frowned at the strange elf's logic. Unsure if the elf was attempting to make a joke or not, the drow answered seriously. "I am not entirely certain that you should have left me alive."

"Are you suggesting that I remedy that now?" The elf asked, his voice rising nearly as high as his eyebrows.

The drow shook his head. There were things that he wished to say, but he had no idea how to say them.

The elf waited a moment for him to continue, then sighed. "I have fought drow before, and I have never doubted that I was in the right when I attacked them. With you, though," the elf trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. He laughed derisively and shook his head. "Usually I am much better at this. Can we start again? My name is Kannath."

Confused, and still wary, the drow said nothing.

The elf frowned and tilted his head. "Usually," he began in a droll voice, "at least here on the surface world, when one introduces themselves it is customary to introduce one's self as well."

The drow hesitated for a moment, unsure what to tell this elf. He decided upon the truth.

"I have no name. At least, none that I can recall."

"That must make introductions difficult," the elf commented. He shifted his legs so that he was sitting on the ground, close enough to touch. He seemed unphased, and entirely at ease, both of which made no sense at all. "You cannot remember your name? That seems like a difficult thing to forget. Where are you from? What are you doing here?"

The drow sighed. "I was hoping that you knew. Or rather, I feared it."

"Feared it?" the elf repeated. His face twisted in confusion. The drow wondered if all elves were this open with their emotions.

The drow nodded. "The first thing I recall is the night sky and the crescent moon. That was fifteen cycles of sun and moon ago, unless I have miscounted. Your group was the first that I recall meeting."

"Then why did you run?"

The drow chuckled. "I am drow. I may have no memory of myself, but I know enough about my people to understand what my welcome would have been. My people are hated here, and rightfully so."

He turned away and shut his eyes against the chorus of voices, feelings and half-seen images the thought of his people brought about.

"We are monsters."

Kannath considered the drow curiously. Even though he had wondered if this drow might be different, he had not expected this type of reaction. The drow's disgust at his own people was something the bard had never expected to hear. At least not from a drow.

The drow shuddered, and his face twisted in pain. Kannath eyed the drow's bandage, checking for any signs that the injury had gotten worse with the drow's moving about. The drow's next words distracted the elf.

"My people kill with joy. I don't know what crimes I have committed or how much blood might be on my hands but I do not doubt that I have killed." The drow's voice shook, and he buried his head in his arms. Suddenly, the drow's seemingly suicidal moves made a lot more sense.

"You thought you had done something unforgivable. Which is why you presented yourself to Iria."

The drow looked up, met his gaze, and nodded. "I expected to die. I never thought that she would …" he paused, seemingly as confused as Kannath had been at the elf's reaction.

"Perhaps she was right." Kannath mused aloud.

The drow shook his head, "I dare not hope that."

Kannath smiled, and asked his next question, though he suspected that he knew the answer. "Have you no faith in the goddess whose mark you carry?" His voice went up as he spoke, as if he was shocked, "surely she chose to believe in you."

"Mark?" The drow echoed incredulously.

The elf laughed and pointed to the drow's shoulder. The drow looked down, and his gasp matched the one Kannath had made earlier that night.

"The mark of Mielikki," Kannath explained, "That is why I would not be so quick to condemn myself if I were you. Mielikki is a goddess of the forests and one most often followed by elves and humans. If you were who you think you were, she would not have stepped in to protect you."

The drow stared at the mark, speechless for a long moment. A rush of emotions filled him. Too confused to even begin to sort through them, they overwhelmed the drow for a long moment. The feel of something being pressed into his hand brought his attention outward again, and he wrapped his fingers around the flask the elf handed him.

"Drink. Then rest. We begin traveling tomorrow."

Filled with a mix of wonder, hope, and profound relief, he did so.


	11. Chapter 11

Iria came out of reverie as the sun rose. She stared at the sky for a moment as she gathered her thoughts, then started into full wakefulness as last night's events flashed through her mind. She turned to see the drow still asleep and the other elf preparing breakfast. She stretched, stood up, then walked over to him.

Wordlessly, Kannath handed her a bowl of some sort of soup and she accepted it.

"Did he awaken?" She asked as she took a seat on the ground across from him.

He nodded, "I gave him one of your potions, and we talked some." He shook his head in disbelief. "If I had not fought against the drow dozens of times I would think that the tales I had heard were lies."

"They were not. But this one is nothing like his people." Iria explained as she sipped her breakfast. She kept her eyes down and her expression neutral, but it was harder to keep the smugness from her voice. She loved being right.

When Kannath didn't answer, Iria glanced up. The elf looked positively shaken. He sank to his knees in front of her, his eyes on her but his attention miles away.

"How could I have been so wrong?" she heard him whisper, though she doubted the words were intended for her. He groaned and ran his hands through his hair.

"What have I done? Have I-"

"You did what any sensible elf would have done," she reassured him, cutting him off before he could go further in his recriminations. While she had no problems letting him wallow in guilt, she had to make sure that he knew that. If this had not been the drow of her vision, Kannath's quick thinking probably would have saved her life.

"Are you calling yourself less than sensible?" Kannath spoke the words before he realized that the veteran ranger might be less than happy about them. He tensed, expecting an angry retort or that his unpredictable companion would demand that he leave. He needn't have worried.

Iria snorted. "I assure you, I have been called much worse than that. Also, I knew more than you did." She said the last with the same tone he had used the night before, when striking a bargain. It was much more annoying, he noted, when he was the one searching for answers.

Kannath tugged at one of his braids in frustration. "But how did you know more than I did? He did not know you, I know you did not know him!"

"Oh, really?" Iria leaned forward, grinning as she did so. Maddeningly, she let it go at that.

Iria tried not to laugh as Kannath made a face. She was being cruel, and she knew it. Now that she was fairly certain that Kannath was actually an ally, she found that she liked the bard. Still, she did not understand his motives, and she needed to. He had taken her seriously even before they had seen the mark, and most elves would have killed the drow anyways, herself included if presented with so little evidence. She waited, patiently, while Kannath visibly struggled with his frustration.

"What do you want?" he said at last with a tortured groan, the very picture of agony. Iria fought a grin. No wonder he had chosen to become a bard.

"Answers. Just answers," she replied. "Considering your profession of choice, I don't imagine you will struggle too much with that."

"You insult me." Kannath stiffened and turned away with a humph. Iria shrugged and waited for a response. While she did not understand the bard yet, she was beginning to understand his sense of humor. She glanced over at the drow. That he was still asleep told her that he must have been truly exhausted. Likely, he would sleep for a few candlemarks yet. His face was calm and he looked untroubled. Iria took that as a positive sign, though she was unsure how peaceful the drow would be upon waking again. She felt … protective of him, though she was unsure as to whether or not he would take kindly to that. Still, Mielikki had sent her to him and he was hers. They would find a solution somehow. The goddess would provide. She studied her charge a moment more, wondering what kind of a life he had lived before she had found him, then turned back to Kannath. The elf was watching her, with a most peculiar look on his face. Iria stared back and tried to remember what they had been talking about.

"About?" He prompted after a moment.

Iria recovered her wits. "Well, I was going to ask if you could cook," she began, then raised her bowl to her lips and took a sip. She grimaced. "What did you add to this soup?"

"Cinnamon … I think." Kannath said after a moment's thought.

Iria considered the strange name. Whatever it was, it probably wouldn't kill her. Though there was little point in taking chances two days running.

"Next time I make the breakfast." She sipped the concoction again, noting that it tasted less bad on a second try. Most likely not deadly. As a ranger, thankfully, she had a fairly high tolerance for even the worst of food.

"Was there anything else you wanted to ask about now that you have sussed out my cooking skills?" he asked sharply, "My life story perhaps?"

"Given that you are a bard, I am sure you will find a time to do that," Iria said dryly. Before Kannath could reply, she held up three fingers.

"Just three questions," she assured him, ticking them off as she spoke. "Why did you believe me so easily? What were your experiences with drow before this, and how did you learn drowish?"

Kannath nodded. These were questions that he had expected. He gave Iria a look that told her he knew exactly why she had chosen those questions. She bristled, expecting a confrontation no doubt. He merely shrugged and smiled. He had encountered similar doubts before and he had proven his worth. He could and would do the same here again.

"Are you sure you don't want my life story? No? Well then, to begin, I was born on the outskirts of Evereska, in a human village. My father, who was a bard, had been sent there to investigate a disturbance and … what?" he paused in his storytelling as Iria scowled at him.

"I said the life story could wait," she growled, putting aside the soup he had concocted for her and shooting it a disgusted look.

No appreciation for the finer things in life, Kannath thought to himself, sighing as he realized that he would be responsible for the entertainment on this campaign. Not that he minded, but sometimes it got so boring.

He grinned.

"It is important. My parents were Evereskan, but they traveled a lot, and I spent more time in and around humans and half-elves than I did around other elves. I grew used to it, and used to conversing with those of all different backgrounds. As my mother was a healer I often got to know some of the more … interesting inhabitants who had a talent for getting into trouble. In one small city we met an elven woman whose daughter was exceptionally talented. The child was half-drow."

Iria gasped and Kannath paused, studying her reaction. He had met many elves who saw such children as aberrations. She seemed more surprised than horrified or angry though, and Kannath decided to continue on.

"R'stillyr's parentage was obvious to any who saw her, and more than one villager took exception. Her mother was unable to protect her. Due to that, she spent more time with my mother than away. As a result, she spent quite some time with me. I fear I was a bad influence. But then, so was she. I believe she got me into nearly half the trouble that I got into at that time. Nothing spiteful of course, but she was mischievous enough for ten."

"She taught you the drow language?" Iria asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

Kannath nodded. "She taught me what her mother taught her of drow sign language as well. Not a lot by any means, but it was enough for us."

His knowledge of the drow sign language had been enough to save his skin more than once as well. He didn't speak it well enough for negotiation or intimidation but he knew enough. No drow he had ever encountered expected an elf to understand their silent language. After all, no self-respecting drow would willingly give that sort of information to an elf. A shame, that. He would have liked to learn more.

Kannath pulled his attention back to the present, glancing past Iria to the drow for a moment, before staring past him and into the brightening forest.

"R'stillyr was the first playmate I had ever had with the same appreciation for mischief as me. She taught me how to pick locks, and I taught her how to sneak away from a scene without anyone noticing. We had a great time together."

Kannath's thoughts lingered a moment longer on the good times. Stronger even than his memories of his parents, his memories of the half-drow child had not faded, not even after all these years. He was unsure as to whether it was because she was his first true friend or because of what happened afterwards.

"But?" Iria prompted after the stretch of silence went on just a little too long. From the elf's expression, she was sure the acquaintance had ended unhappily.

"With stories like these there is always a but," Kannath replied. The bard's expression was flippant enough, but there was a tremor in his finely-trained voice.

"As I said, my father had been sent there to investigate a disturbance. It started simply enough, small animals going missing, villagers hearing strange sounds in the night. It got worse. Livestock disappeared or was found dead and mutilated, and people began to report attacks at night, though no one could identify what had attacked them. When the first person disappeared, the fear became overwhelming. R'stillyr was an easy target to blame. They burned her at the stake."

Iria cringed, but kept her attention focused on Kannath. The elf had given up his flippant pose, shutting his eyes as he spoke. It was a fruitless effort, Iria knew from experience. Shutting one's eyes against memories just made it harder to make them go away.

"I was young," the bard continued, his words tumbling out rough and unpolished, "too young to do anything. There were so many people that my parents could do nothing either, so they just stood by. She was just a child…"

The bard mumbled something fluid in another tongue, something that Iria could not catch.

Kannath cringed at the silence and in his own weakness. He had told another of R'stillyr only once before, and then only with the assistance of strong ale. Mostly, when someone asked him about his past, he avoided that subject entirely. Not because it wasn't important, but because he had never learned the trick of hiding that kind of sorrow and pain. He cursed that lack now. Iria did not seem the type to indulge complainers and he needed to impress her if he was going to travel with her, or she would get rid of him at the first opportunity.

Half-afraid that he had destroyed any chance of that, he started when Iria put a hand on her shoulder in sympathy.

"Thankyou." Iria said simply, then hugged him, ignoring the flinch and slightly muffled sniffle from the other elf. She marveled that half-drow child could invoke feelings so contrary to those she had always felt towards drow, and that the bard had trusted her enough to tell her his story, given how short a time they had known each other.

With a final reassuring pat, she stood. She was no master storyteller, and she needed the comfort of pacing if she was going to put her words to thoughts.

"My turn," She said before launching into her tale.

She told him briefly of Sembridge, as well as her other experiences with drow, then about the dream and showed him the unicorn hair as further proof. The bard was tactful enough not to press her for information on Sembridge, though he listened with rapt attention. He questioned her relentlessly on the dream, interrupting her several times to ask for more information and details.

"Unbelievable." Kannath said when at last he seemed to have run out of questions. Then he asked one more. "When did you have the dream?"

Iria paused in her pacing as she counted back the days. "The first night after the new moon which would have been fourteen ... no fifteen days ago." She glanced over at the drow as she spoke, still marveling that her world had been turned upside-down in so short a time.

Kannath's gasp made her turn around. "That would have been the first day he remembers."

"Remembers?" Iria repeated in confusion.

He nodded. "When I asked him where he came from, he told me he didn't know. Fifteen days ago he woke up with no memory of where he was, or what he had done, or even his name. It was purely luck that the ended up coming this way." Kannath explained. "He is as confused as we are as to how he ended up here and why he has Mielikki's mark on his shoulder."

Iria sat on shaky legs as the world continued to spin merrily around her. "How is that possible?"

Kannath shrugged. "I would give a great deal to find out, both to discover how he managed to escape the corruption that seems to be drow and for his own sake. The drow is afraid of what he might have done but does not recall."

Iria was silent for a long moment. "Well then, the next few weeks with him should be very interesting."

"Indeed." Kannath agreed. "I need to contact my party and let them know that I will not be rejoining them for quite some time."

"You will be joining us then?" Iria asked as she stood, brushing the debris from her clothing as she did so.

Kannath's eyes lit up with joy again, for some strange reason Iria could not understand. Taking in a rogue drow and fleeing from both an elven village and a group of adventurers and friends was not something she considered fun. "Of course! Though I'm not sure where exactly you plan on venturing."

Iria strode over to her pack, as much to give herself a distraction as anything else. She hoisted it to one shoulder as she spoke.

"I need to travel back to my village and let them know that no problems will come from the drow, and our next move should be to get as far away from this village as possible." Iria's lips curved into a painful smile. "As much as I wish I could claim otherwise, my people would never understand. They would kill the drow on sight."

"You will travel this morning?" He asked as Iria turned back to face him.

"As you should. Travel to the west this day and I will catch up to you tonight. We will head to the place I call home. It will be safe enough from prying eyes and give us a chance to figure out what to do next."

"Leaving me to explain the situation when I return to my group, right? You will be there when I get back? Not take the opportunity to escape like I know you wanted to last night?" Kannath asked with an amused expression as Iria shrugged apologetically.

"Considering that I followed you and nearly killed the one you were trying to protect, you have the right." Kannath said, his voice full of self-depreciating humor.

"You're a part of this now bard, whether you like it or not." Iria growled, doing her best to sound fierce and menacing. The other elf laughed.

Iria laughed too, then took off towards her village.


	12. Chapter 12

The drow drifted in and out of sleep. Vaguely, he was aware of voices speaking in a foreign tongue, but only vaguely. Exhaustion, and the fatigue of the past few days and the drow's wild flight, as well as the startling revelations of the night before had caught up with him at last. If left undisturbed, he would have slept until nightfall. Instead, a touch to his shoulder startled him into full awareness.

The drow reacted without thinking, planning his strike on his opponent: a blow to the throat that would leave his enemy disabled. He shifted his weight, bringing one leg up and bringing one arm to the ground to support his spring even as he opened his eyes.

Light seared the drow's eyes, blinding him and making him reel in agony and throwing off his planned attack. The drow bit off a curse. Balance off, he fell back, covering his eyes against the blinding attack.

"Easy, it's just me," came the newly-familiar voice of his elven companion.

Memories came back in a rush, and the drow realized where he was and who he was with. He drew in a shaky breath as he realized just how close he had come to attacking his new ally.

"Next time, say something first." the drow muttered.

"Hmm?" came the reply from far too nearby. This time the drow resisted the urge to jump.

"Not all of us are used to peacetime, elf," he explained tiredly, "it is less than wise to startle drow. It is far too easy to trigger a reaction we would both regret."

There was a silence as Kannath considered that, followed by a slight shuffling of feet.

"Sorry," came the soft reply from a bit further back.

The drow sat up cautiously, using one hand to shade his eyes as he squinted. The sun was much brighter than he had ever seen it before, too bright for him to see clearly. The drow thanked the fates that he had found himself among allies so quickly.

The drow accepted the steaming bowl with what he could only assume was some sort of broth while the elf packed. The drow hid his distaste at the food. Whatever it was, he hoped it was a specialty rather than what elves regularly ate, or he would go back to taking his chances with berries.

The drow watched the elf go about his morning tasks for a few minutes, testing his sense of sight in the morning light. Even with his eyes mostly closed, the light was painful to his eyes and he felt a dull ache forming in the back of his head. It would be some time yet before he was capable of withstanding this much light.

It was only halfway through breakfast that he realized that the pain he should be feeling in his arm was not as bad as it should be. Looking down, he realized that the makeshift bandage he'd tied around his arm was gone and that the injury had completely healed. Immediately he understood the nature of the flask the elf had offered him last night and that the injury he had received last night was also most definitely on the mend.

He stretched his arms experimentally, noting that there was only a slight twinge of pain when he moved. The elf called out something to him and he turned as a piece of clothing hit him squarely in the chest.

"To make up for the shirt you lost due to my arrows." The elf explained. To the drow he sounded embarrassed by the whole situation and almost apologetic. The light was too harsh for him to check the elf's expression though, so he simply pulled on the shirt and murmured something appropriately thankful.

He finished breakfast as the elf packed, then followed him as they began their trek away from the elven village. Aware of the need to get away, the drow said nothing about the decision to travel by day, though he was less than comfortable with it.

For the first mile or so it traveling was not so bad, he watched the feet of the elf and tried to keep his eyes down. Still, he was grateful for each chance to stop and to shut his eyes as he attempted to massage away the ache that came from squinting from such a long period of time. By the time they stopped for water his eyes were bothering him too much to be ignored anymore. He sat on a smooth rock under the trees and shut his eyes against the dizziness that wouldn't go away. The break ended far too soon and he slid off the rock and staggered to his feet, clutching a nearby trunk as he waited for the dizziness to go away.

"Are you ill?" The elf asked in alarm.

The drow started to shake his head, but that made the dizziness worse.

"I have never traveled during the day before." He admitted, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment. "The sunlight is a lot stronger than what I am used to."

The elf cursed in drowish, drawing a startled laugh from the drow as he watched the elf set down his pack.

"I should have assumed … in that case, we rest. We can travel once the sun goes down. Iria will just catch up with us faster."

"Iria," the drow repeated as he moved back to the rock, closing his eyes again. "that is her name?"

"Yes, and I am Kannath."

The drow nodded. Having no name to offer, he said nothing in return.

"Truth be told, I don't mind resting. It has been a long time since I had to keep watch alone, and I slept little last night." Kannath yawned. His pack thumped heavily against the ground as the elf moved around on the same rock.

The drow followed suit, stretching out, and shading his sensitive eyes against the sunlight. With his eyes closed and shielded, the awful headache receded somewhat.

"May I call you Dathien? It means wanderer in our language." Kannath asked suddenly.

"Dathien." The drow repeated, trying out the name himself. He smiled. "That would be fine. Perhaps I will be able to give you my true name someday soon."

Kannath didn't respond to that, not that there was much to say. Neither of them knew why he had no memories, nor whether or not they would return. Not that the drow minded much. He figured that could do without memories of wherever he had come from.

"Would it be possible for you to teach me this world's common tongue?" The drow asked after a long silence.

"Of course." Kannath replied immediately. "When do you wish to start?"

"Now, perhaps? If you're willing, that is," the drow replied. "I don't need to see you to hear you, and the sooner I learn the better. Iria does not understand drowish, and eventually we will come across others. I would like to be able to speak for myself to them, if we can convince them not to shoot me on sight."

Kannath grunted at that, and the drow remembered that the elf had shot him the night before. Before he had a chance to reply, the elf launched into an explanation on common, and the drow had to concentrate on what the elf was saying as he tried to commit it to memory. He listened as if his life depended on it. There was a good chance that it might.

Common, Dathien reflected later, was aptly named and he found himself picking up many similarities between it and Undercommon. He continued his language instructions with Kannath as the sun reached its peak, then the elf went off to find food while the drow caught a few more hours of rest.

As the sun set, the two started off again and the drow felt a surge of relief as his sense of balance and direction returned to him. Traveling by night, in the woods, came as such a welcoming event that he wondered how he could have seen the night as threatening before. This time, the call to rest seemed to come far too soon. As Kannath paused to catch his breath, Dathien climbed to the topmost branches of a large tree. The tree was as wide around as he was tall, with thick, sturdy branches that offered easy handholds. He climbed slowly, out of caution for his newly healed arm. The climb was strenuous but, upon reaching the top, the drow realized that it had been worth it. Looking out at the forest surrounding him, the drow felt a growing sense of awe. The moonlight fell on a stretch of trees that seemed to go on forever and with this realization came an odd sense of belonging here, that things were as they were intended to be.

"Truly, I must have done something right, to have found myself here." The drow reflected from his perch. "Perhaps my past is not as dark as I feared it might be. Certainly, my reactions to this world mark me as being something different from most of my people. We are supposed to hate and fear this surface world, yet it seems to me to be some sort of sanctuary. Such a reaction cannot simply be the result of forgetting my memories ... can it?"

How long he stayed there wondering about what might soon be he could not say, only that when he came down Kannath was ready and waiting. The two continued to travel at a leisurely pace as the moon rose higher in the sky and they continued towards their destination.

Iria caught up to Kannath and the drow as the sun was setting. Much to her consternation, camp was still set up and Kannath was nowhere to be seen. At first she did not see the drow either but he stepped out to greet her as she neared.

"Good afternoon, Iria." He greeted her in heavily accented Common.

Iris was taken aback for a moment and her eyes widened. "You have been able to speak common all this time?"

The drow's face contorted with confusion as he considered her words, then shook his head.

"Again?"

Iria repeated her sentence, this time more slowly. By the drow's expression, it made no more sense than the first time. She shrugged. It was hardly the first time that she had had trouble communicating with an ally. She pointed at him, then at her mouth and ears.

"Kannath?" She asked, hoping that the drow picked up on the message.

"Kannath." The drow affirmed. "Slow." He admitted, obviously referring to his own attempts at grasping the language.

"I will try to help." Iria promised. "Do you know any other tongues, besides drowish?"

"Do not understand." The drow replied. Iria repeated the question in Elvish, then Goblin and the drow's eyes lit up with sudden comprehension.

"This one I know, though I do not know how," he replied in the same tongue.

Iria tried a few other tongues and learned that he spoke Orcish as well.,

"You will learn the Common tongue soon." Iria reassured him in the rougher language, thanking Mielikki for the fact that she could communicate with her ally. "You can learn many languages it seems."

"It does ..." The drow mused, staring past her into the woods. Iria followed his gaze for a moment, then turned back to him. The drow's expression was decidedly troubled.

"Is what Kannath said true? You know nothing of who you are or where you are from?"

"Not even my name, though Kannath has given me one for now: Dathien."

Iria nodded. "Wanderer." She murmured aloud. That was its common meaning now but it also referred to one who was on an honorable quest or searching for something very important. She smiled. "I will remember that. Where is Kannath? I expected you to be traveling now."

"Kannath looks for food." the drow said with admirable neutrality. However, Iria noted the flicker of distaste across the drow's face at the thought of eating more of Kannath's cooking.

Iria nodded and sat down next on the ground to wait. She had been traveling most of last night as well, trying to catch up to Kannath and Dathien and worrying that she would not find them again until the next night.

"Can you cook?" she asked the drow. She was unsurprised when he shook his head, but she sighed anyways. It would have been nice to share the duty with someone.

"I will do the cooking tonight," she declared. The drow shot her a look of gratitude and she laughed again.

"You have recovering to do yet,"she said, as the drow took a seat on the ground beside her, "and our trail will be perilous enough without bad cooking."

When he returned, Kannath seemed equally relieved that Iria had usurped his position as cook. Iria wondered to herself if his cooking skill was truly that bad or if it was simply feigned. Her answer came as she started sorting through the plants that he had brought back, and some strangely delicate mushrooms. She threw the mushrooms away, but not before taking the moon elf aside and explaining the difference between edible mushrooms and poisonous ones.

She rested well that night, with a full stomach, content that her people as well as her new allies were safe. She awoke from reverie only when Kannath roused her and he departed for his trip to town.


End file.
